


Bedside Manners

by anarchycox



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Banter, Friendship, Gen, Grumpiness, Mistaken Identity, Pre-Canon, Training exercises, confined to a bed, silliness, workplace injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 10:10:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14892647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchycox/pseuds/anarchycox
Summary: As a part of Kingsman candidate training, Merlin makes all the candidates spend one week doing a rather dirty or annoying job, in the hope of giving them an appreciation of the support staff. It seldom works, but he tries.Michael Morton, a candidate for the role of Percival, has drawn the equivalent of an orderly in the medical wing. There he meets an incredibly annoying patient.Harry Hart would argue that anyone with two broken ankles is allowed to be annoying.





	Bedside Manners

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dravni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dravni/gifts).



> Welcome to me writing a gen fic, the origins of Percival and Galahad. I hope you like this glimpse of pre-canon.

"I'm sure I misheard you," one of the candidates said.

"I've seen your medical report, your hearing is fine. You didn't mishear me,  you just wish you did," Merlin replied. He looked at his clipboard. "We are down to 8 candidates, and ye have all been doing incredibly well at your weapons training. I've not seen a group more adept at weaponry than you lot." He watched them all perk up at the praise. "But you are utterly shit at people." He enjoyed the way they deflated. "You haven't seemed to grasp that you need to be aware of your surroundings and more the unnoticed people in them. In a practice break in, three of you were spotted by the servants and never noticed them. Too many of you are so used to ignoring those lower than your status, that you haven't thought that a single cry from their lips gets you killed." Merlin's smile was cold. "To that end, we will draw lots and you will spend a week working in a wing of the support staff of the Kingsman estates." 

"Some of us passed that test fine, why should we all suffer?" another candidate asked.

"Because ye just suggested that working the kitchens or kennels is suffering," Merlin said. "Because you don't value the people who spend their lives making sure you keep yours. Kitchen, janitorial, medical, kennels, equipment repair, the garage, the back room of the tailor shop, and groundskeeper," he listed off. "Should be interesting." He put down the clipboard and held out cards. "Who's first?" He figured this would be interesting in and of itself. A couple candidates moved forward quickly and grabbed a card. Only one didn't really seem to care and waited until the end. Morton. He interested Merlin and Merlin's money was on him making the final three.

Everyone listed off their job and he made a note. "Tomorrow morning, you will be collected by your supervisor, for the next week their word is law. And if they tell me that you were shirking your duty? It will be an immediate dismissal. Good evening, gentlemen."

Michael stared at his card. Medical. Everyone else was complaining but he didn't think it would be that bad, learning how the medical staff worked seemed to have a lot of potential for the future. He slept easily that night and in the morning, a man in scrubs came to collect him. Michael was tossed a pair of scrubs and he changed into them and followed up to the medical wing. He was surprised at the space. "Bigger than I expected," he said. "How many work here?"

"3 doctors, 5 nurses, and 3 orderlies," he said. "Well 4 orderlies this week."

"That seems excessive?" Michael asked.

"Depends," he shrugged. "They pay good so that someone is always on call or here."

"Are the other orderlies...built like you?"

"You mean giant mean looking mother fuckers?" the man grinned and showed a missing tooth. "Agents are rather phobic about needles. Keeping them in line can take a firm hand." The giant Irishman gave him a look. "You gonna give me a problem when you end up in there?"

"I do not currently have a needle phobia," Michael replied. "And I do not think I qualify as a mean looking mother fucker." He paused, "I think though there are rumours of an incestuous relationship in the family tree in the 1300s or so." Michael was almost toppled when the man slapped a hand on his back and laughed. 

"Right, well 2 patients currently. Healing from a ruptured appendix, and a bloke with two broken ankles," the orderly explained. "Our job is to empty bed pans, help with sponge baths, wheel people where they are needed and bring food. You squeamish about bodily fluids?"

"Not my favourite, but I can cope," Michael replied. 

"Good. Anytime a nurse tells you to hop to, you hop to," the orderly said. "The docs are decent but the nurses are in charge."

"Are they...stern?" Michael asked.

"They deal with men who regularly try to blow themselves up, of course they are," the orderly said. "Now I'm helping appendix. You go see what ankles needs."

"On my own, you won't supervise me?" Michael would not panic.

"He's super drugged up right now, because of the pain, you'll be fine."

"No I won't!" But the man just made finger guns and disappeared into a different room. Michael knocked on the door in front of him and then poked his head in. "Hello?"

"Helloooooo!" the voice said. "Are you a floating head? I like floating heads. Wait no...I like the Talking Heads. They are a musical group you know. Did you know?"

"I think so? They sound familiar," Michael replied and walked into the room.

"Oh, you have a body," the man said. "That's boring."

Michael wondered how much pain killer they had the man on. He guessed a lot with the way his ankles were strung up. "I find a body rather useful."

"They are, until they fail you. One tiny beta test, and look what happened," he stared glumly at his ankles. "Had to make sure they were field ready. Turns out they weren't. Who knew rocket shoes were a bad idea?"

"Anyone who has seen a Looney Tunes cartoon?" Michael said.

The man lit up. "That is where the idea came from," he said cheerfully. "But we failed. And now this." He gestured to his legs. "And they couldn't even replace them with robotic legs. It is 1991. Why can't they chop my feet off and give me rocket legs?"

Michael wasn't sure how to answer, especially when the man began to sob about the lack of robot legs. He went over and pat his shoulder gently. "I am really very sorry they didn't cut off your legs and replace them with robot ones."

"Thank you," the man sniffled. "I really appreciate that." The man wiped his tears away and put on his glasses. "Siren suit. Are you a table candidate?"

The glasses made the man look like a ruffled professor, especially with the floppy hair. Michael put it all together. This was someone in R&D who had been field testing a gadgets for the agents and it backfired horribly. The poor man. "I am," Michael replied. "It is for the role of Percival."

"Who nominated you?" For a moment the man almost looked cunning, but then it disappeared again.

"We aren't allowed to say," Michael said. "Is this common?"

"Failed rocket oxfords?" The man frowned. "Pretty sure this was the first attempt at them."

"No, do you know if previous candidates had to do other jobs for the Kingsman as a part of the training?"

"Not a clue, the Galahad cohort didn't have it, that I know," he said.

"How do you know that?" Michael asked but then there was a loud gurgle from the man's stomach. "I believe I am supposed to fetch you food. What would you like?"

"Full English, please," he said loftily.

"I'll bring you whatever the kitchen has been told is appropriate."

"It will not be a full English," he said sadly. "They are very strict about food in medical."

"Land in here a lot?" 

"More than I would like," he said. "Certainly more than the nurses like. I'm difficult." The man pouted but then smiled. "But you don't think I'm difficult do you?"

"You don't seem such," Michael replied. "Sir," he added.

"Oh call me Harry," the man said. "I also pulled out my catheter in the middle of the night because they feel so very odd. There is a full bed pan under this blanket." He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. "If you are into wee, you can have it."

"I am not," Michael replied. He then moved the blanket and took the bedpan. "I will dispose of this."

"Thank you. You are pretty, much prettier than the guy from yesterday. He was mean, it was scary."

"I'll get your breakfast," Michael said. He took the bedpan to the loo and dumped it. He then wondered what to do with the bedpan and gave it a rinse and found some cleaner under the sink and sprayed it, that had to be good enough. He then returned it to Harry, washed his hands and realized dear god he needed to find some plastic gloves if he was doing this job. He then left, the man singing what Michael could only assume was the Talking Heads. He ran into the orderly in the hall. "He is..."

"Still super drugged up?" Michael nodded. "Best way to deal with him for the first few days after an injury. God the exploding pen incident. Jaysus, we lost a doctor and two nurses to that incident. Hence he is drugged hard for the start. He'll be weaned starting tomorrow. He didn't try to kiss you did he? He likes kisses when flying high."

"He was sad he didn't have robot legs, and offered to let me keep his wee."

"That's new," the man said. "Come on, I'll take you to the kitchen, show you what's what."

"The candidate Reginald, is to be working in the kitchens," Michael said. "I would not trust anything he hands to you." 

"Arsehole?"

"Surprisingly unhygenic," Michael said.

"Well, bet he's loving the hair net," the orderly said.

Michael laughed. "God I wish I could get a photo of it."

"Merlin will have footage, ask him."

"Oh god no, I could never -"

"Merlin ain't so scary," the orderly said.

"Merlin?" Michael stared at him. "He's terrifying."

The orderly leaned in. "In medical, he needs a teddy bear to sleep with. Just saying."

"That is utter bullshit," Michael said. He paused. "Isn't it?"

The orderly whistled as they walked to the kitchen.

Michael did enjoy Reginald in the hair net.

***********************************************

"Fuck off," Harry snarled when Michael came in the next day.

"Ahh, they are weaning the drugs," Michael replied. He had gloves this time. "Bedpan?"

"Empty," Harry replied. "Get me crutches."

"No?"

"I will murder you," Harry warned.

"With the failed rocket oxfords?" Michael smiled. "I doubt it. I have the best gun scores in my cohort."

"Oooh, I'm shaking. They aren't better than Galahad's," Harry replied.

"Actually, Merlin commented that long range, I'm the best Kingsman have ever seen. I'll get your breakfast now."

"I don't want breakfast, I want crutches!" Harry shouted.

"Breakfast will make you strong enough for crutches." Michael went and got breakfast and returned it to Harry. "Now then, this looks...perfectly balanced."

"I hate banana," Harry said. "It is mushy and bland. And if I don't clear the tray, I won't get crutches."

The man looked so pathetic, Michael found himself reaching out and eating the banana. "I'll see if I can't make sure it is a different fruit in the future."

"I won't murder you," Harry said.

"Thank you." Michael looked around the room. "Bit boring in here."

"I've recommended better, chairs, a new wall colour, high thread count sheets, they never listen to me."

"In here enough that you want it changed up?" Michael said.

"You have no idea," he replied. "Though I suppose you will, if you end up at the table."

"I have a good chance, I think," Michael said.

"How do you figure, those gun scores?"

Michael shook his head. "They help but aren't enough. You can have strengths and weaknesses but Merlin is looking for something more. This test? I know two of the candidates he is hoping will wash out because of it. They have excellent combat scores and are utter wretches."

"Merlin dislikes snobs," Harry said. 

"And these are incredible ones." Michael thought about it. "I hate to say that you need a certain air about you, because that isn't quite right, but if you don't...if you can't..." Michael shook his head. "I don't even know, maybe it is just about the raw data with Merlin."

"It isn't," Harry said quietly. He was clearly tiring with the pain medication being dialed down. "He looks for a spark, something that makes a person stand out in unexpected ways."

"I'm afraid I'll be out then, I am perfectly expected."

"I doubt that," Harry said. "I'll see you again at lunch?"

"I'll make sure there is an apple," Michael promised.

**********************************

"You weren't here yesterday," Harry said. 

"You missed me?"

"I've perhaps overly alienated the staff, and they don't really talk to me," Harry replied. "Merlin came to visit, but he was pissed off."

"A candidate mouthed off to his supervisor and kicked one of the kennel cages. It was empty but -"

"But Merlin values the dogs more than people," Harry said.

"We all were put through double load course running yesterday," Michael said.

"You don't have your dog with you."

"Dogs aren't medical room friendly," Michael said. "Lunch tray, not a banana on it." He looked to the wall. "Crutches," he said.

"Yes, I explained why it was important to my health that I regain mobility as soon as possible."

"Terrorized everyone else?"

"Indeed, though I will send apology gifts once I am out of here," Harry said. "I do need the loo, though," he added.

Michael moved the table with the lunch tray out of the way. Harry got himself up and reached for the crutches. "How do those work with two broken ankles?"

"Technically one is only a hairline fracture, the cast is a walking one. I am allowed 20 steps a day."

"Aren't those rather painful steps?" Michael asked.

"Yes," Harry said through gritted teeth. "They are." He made his slow way to the toilet and when he was done his business had to call out. "I can't make it back."

"Stubborn only gets you so far hmm?" Michael replied. He saw the wheelchair in the corner and wheeled it to bathroom. He went in and put a shoulder under Harry's. "Lord you solidly built."

"I stay in shape," Harry replied. "Have to." They managed to get him in the wheelchair.

Michael figured it made sense for some in R&D to be in equal shape to those at the table. Testing would be easier with it. He managed to get Harry into the bed and his ankles elevated again. He nodded and went to leave.

"I'm bored," Harry said. 

"I could get you a book?"

"I am not that sort of bored," Harry said. "Company would be welcome. I'll even let you have my jello."

"That is a difficult offer to refuse," Michael agreed and sat in the chair next to the bed. He had been laid up once for a couple weeks and remembered how dreadful it was. "What would you like to talk about?"

"What is your favourite place in the world?" Harry asked and Michael spoke and they chatted for an hour, before Michael needed to help the other orderly.

***************************************

"You are leaving?" Michael said in surprise. Harry was out of the hospital gown and in sweat pants and a cardigan. Michael was sure the man would be in medical for longer than this. At least until after Michael was done this aspect of his training, though it was ending tomorrow.

"Transferred upstairs to one of the bedrooms. Outpatient so to speak," Harry replied. "Thank you though, for making my stay not as intolerable as it usually is." Harry held out his hand.

"You are welcome," Michael replied. "I would imagine you are itching to get back to work, maybe design yourself some robot legs?"

Harry frowned a bit. "Robot legs?"

"You were well drugged and quite sad you hadn't been given robot legs," Michael laughed a little. "Will you make some."

"No, not quite my division," Harry said. "May I give you a word of advice?"

"I'd welcome it," Michael replied. He hoped that maybe if he made the table, he and Harry could be friends after. The man was funny and reminded Michael of professors from uni. Though the befuddled air had left Harry. But still. He thought maybe they had the start of a solid friendship building.

"After you join the table, if Merlin ever says, please, R&D are sure they have it right, just give it a practical test out, you tell him to bugger off and test it himself."

Michael laughed, though it didn't quite make sense. "I'll keep that in mind."

Merlin knocked on the door. "Harry, ready to be wheeled to your new location? Michael," he nodded to the candidate.

"I can wheel myself," Harry muttered. 

"Be nice, and I'll let the kitchen provide ye with real food."

"This is all your fault anyways," Harry complained.

Michael watched them disappear down the hall, arguing the whole time. "Do you really sleep with a bear when you are in medical Merlin?" Michael found himself calling out. Both men stopped moving. "Oh god, I didn't say that," Michael said and ran for the candidate quarters. He was sure he was going to get kicked out, or put through his paces, but there was nothing.

A week later though, Michael found a note in his journal,  _the bear's name is Mr. B. Bear_

That could only be from Harry. Michael made sure to destroy the note.

************************************

Arthur stood before the closed door. "Your life changed when I conferred the name Percival onto you," he said in a rigid, pompus voice. "And now you experience exactly what that change means." He opened the door and Percival saw a long table and four agents sitting at it. He let Arthur guide him to a chair and he sat and tapped the glasses like Merlin had taught him. He saw the other agents. He then properly looked across the way and it was only the last 19 months of training that stopped his jaw dropping.

Because there was Harry, sitting across from him.

A Kingsman agent.

The odd ball from his week in medical was an agent.

Percival managed to nod when everyone welcomed him and he listened as Arthur ordered Galahad to explain what he learned on his latest mission. That explained how Harry had known about the Galahad cohort. He was Galahad. Percival stayed quiet the whole meeting and figured it could be excused as being the new gentleman. When they were dismissed he started to talk to Harry but the man just gave him a polite nod and disappeared.

Percival was sad, so much for that hoped for friendship with Harry. But that was fine. He'd figure this all out on his own.

Two months later Merlin was trying to cajole Percival into taking a new silencer into the field. That R&D had it mostly perfected but it could use some proper testing. Harry was also in the range as this was going on. Percival didn't think. "Bugger off and test it yourself," he said.

Merlin glared at Harry. "This feels like your fault."

"You think everything is my fault," Harry replied. He gave Percival a friendly smile though, before he went back to his shooting.

Percival grinned and stepped to the line and made sure to out shoot Harry, just to piss the man off. Harry didn't say anything, just flipped him off and seamlessly went back to firing. 

Maybe, Percival thought, that friendship wasn't off the table after all.

 


End file.
